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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28527600">Fields of Gold</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daastan_Go/pseuds/Daastan_Go'>Daastan_Go</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Naruto</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Drama, Family, Love, Minor Violence, Mother-Son Relationship, Other, Tragedy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 21:13:48</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>243</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28527600</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daastan_Go/pseuds/Daastan_Go</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>He wandered the desert in search of her.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Gaara &amp; Karura (Naruto)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Fields of Gold</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Disclaimer: Naruto is Kishimoto's property. I'm not making any money from this story.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p># # # # # #</p><p>How much could he gather in the tiny fist of his hand? Slow slither of Time—timeless grains of Sand. A field of gold lay beyond him, scintillating little stars in the dunes. It was vast, this expanse of desert. A heart whittled by the edge of Time, it trembled and sung such tunes of melodious longing for what lay beyond the gold, the sartorial brilliance of his garb—red against the gold.</p><p>Sun was distant and forlorn, a yarn of gold in the sky. Summer was gone. Winter made the nights go cold. Wind blew from north, and then the gold would whirl and whirl over the sands, gathering little grains as it went—a quiet ghost of the night, a shrilling spectre in the morning that spilt red in the sand sepultures of his making. His cheeks grew red and warm, and he closed his eyes, lashes fluttering upon the plump cheeks.</p><p>He liked the winter. The Sun was kind to him these days; he trod slowly over the dunes, and yellow did not sting on the underside of his feet. He canted his head slightly, eyes bright in the light—bright like light. And he kept walking, taking one small step over the sand to go beyond the dune that kissed the sky's bow that radiated as hotly as love—to find her welcoming bosom. It was not far—he could still make it . . . it was not far . . .</p><p># # # # # #</p><p>
  <strong>The End</strong>
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